


Merry and Bright

by waitingtobelit



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff, Friendship, Holidays, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 12:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waitingtobelit/pseuds/waitingtobelit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Courfeyrac doesn't wait long to get into the holiday spirit; Marius comes to appreciate his abundant enthusiasm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry and Bright

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: I'm very much still on a winter/holiday fluff kick, so.
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Les Mis.

Even with his head buried beneath his pillow and the bedroom door tightly shut to the left of him, the chorus of “It’s Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas,” loud and very much out of tune, still rings out like an alarm. Marius rolls over again, burying his face further into the mattress before groaning and shoving the pillow to the floor in defeat.

“Goddamn it, Courfeyrac.” He mutters under his breath as he kicks the sheets out from under himself. He curses again when the cold air strikes his exposed arms. Right. Their heat that they can barely afford as it is just barely works; he grumbles under his breath as he shudders, grabbing Courfeyrac’s navy bathrobe and pulling it haphazardly around himself before making his way to the kitchen like an awkwardly handled marionette. Though, he can’t help but grin a bit when the familiar scents of organic hair product and that sandalwood cologne Courfeyrac adores hit his nose as he buries himself further into the warmth of the robe.

“It’s only November 1st.” He shuffles into the kitchenette speaking through the cotton collar of the bathrobe pressed tightly to his face. He leans against the doorway as he tries to blink himself more fully awake.

“Your point being?”

Before him, Courfeyrac is all but prancing across the kitchen, pulling pots, pans, and every possible knick knack out from the drawers and cabinets like a mad scientist. He dons a red sweater so brightly hideous Marius can’t help but gape at it and dark green skinny jeans that make him look like one of Santa’s elves. Combeferre had indeed forewarned him of Courfeyrac’s enthusiasm for the holiday season back in August, but Marius never imagined said fervor to be quite so, well, jolly. He finds himself entirely unprepared for so much genuine delight after the holidays from his upbringing.

“It’s too early for Christmas.” He groans, glancing at the sun just barely rising beyond their windows. “It’s too early, period.”

“Nonsense.” Courfeyrac comes over and pulls him from the doorframe with that dopey grin Marius adores stretching wide across his face. “You’re just a Grinch.”

“Bah hum – mph!”

Courfeyrac pulls him into a fierce kiss, rendering him breathless and entirely awake with his insistent lips and the calloused fingers he brings to cup Marius’ wobbling chin.

“But you’re my Grinch, so. Good morning.” Courfeyrac’s eyes are twinkling and his hands are warmer than blankets, so Marius finds himself grinning in spite of himself.

“Good morning to you too.” He leans in and pulls Courfeyrac closer, kissing him again with greater enthusiasm. They remain entangled for a few moments, hands grasping at fabric and soft little whimpers dancing between lips; they part only when they bump noses, both of them now giggling and a tad breathless. Marius feels slightly less cold as he moves further into the kitchen.

“So I guess this is a bad time to tell you that I’ve invited Cosette and Eponine over to bake Christmas cookies.” Courfeyrac says as he dances to the refrigerator, pulling out a half-empty carton of orange juice while reaching for a semi-washed glass by the sink.

“A little warning would’ve been nice.” Marius leans on the edge of the counter, chin in hands as he realizes the full extent of red, green, and gold encompassing their kitchenette in the forms of ribbons, bows, and bells. He finds himself struck by the warmth of the decorations, so different from the grand affair that always was Christmas at his grandfather’s house.

“This is a little warning.” Courfeyrac’s cheeks are flushed, glimmers of gold tinsel flickering in his bright eyes as he slides the glass of orange juice over to Marius.

“More than the morning of, I mean.” He grins regardless, his fingers brushing against Courfeyrac’s as he grasps the glass before bringing it to his lips.

“I was trying to surprise you?” Now Courfeyrac is the one with his chin in hands, leaning over the counter and looking up at Marius with that damn puppy dog smile-pout of his.

“I suppose I’m just not used to so much…good cheer, I guess is what you’d call it.” Marius sips from his juice, savoring the utter coolness of it as he tries to shove aside rising memories of holiday celebrations past. Expensive toys he never asked for and a parade of faces always laughing at him dance around his thoughts like a carousel; he grimaces as he gulps down the rest of his drink. “I’ve never really been able to get into the Christmas spirit.”

“But your grandfather’s Christmas parties are legends! My parents went to one, once.” Courfeyrac opens another cupboard, reaching in and grabbing various cookie cutters and other baking utensils, setting them out on the opposite counter with a wistfulness in his voice. “They said the Christmas tree was larger than our living room and even the eggnog was fancier than my father’s Dior suit.”

“Yeah, well. He always was gifted at impressing other people.” Marius manages to keep his tone even, though, from the way Courfeyrac tilts his head and glances at him, he supposes he still can’t entirely suppress his bitterness. He chews on his lip and looks down, rubbing the fabric of the bathrobe between his fingers.

“That bad, huh?” Courfeyrac moves around the counter, quick as an elf, and takes his hands in his, rubbing over the back of them with his thumbs.

“He could afford the latest, most expensive toys in season, but apparently showing me any affection was too much for him.” His head falls onto Courfeyrac’s shoulder just as Courfeyrac pulls him into a firm hug.

“His loss is my gain.” Courfeyrac mumbles against the tangled mess that is Marius’ hair. He plants a slow, soothing kiss to his head before pulling back and meeting Marius’ gaze. “I guess I’ll just have to reeducate you in the old holy jolly ways myself then! Come.”

Courfeyrac pulls him up and forward, the crooked grin on his face warming Marius like the foam on the surface of hot chocolate; he throws his head back, freckled neck quivering from his laughter as Courfeyrac starts draping him in every ridiculous color of tinsel he can find.

\---

They eventually manage to arrange all the utensils and ingredients in a somewhat presentable fashion. Of course, they had to navigate Marius almost breaking the eggs and Courfeyrac locating the ginger, first. Then Marius had to “dress for the occasion,” leading to a pile of Courfeyrac’s sweaters and skinny jeans on the floor. Courfeyrac finally approved of Marius’ gold sweater with a white pair of his own jeans, before leading him back to the kitchen to “test the ingredients.” Of course, Marius wound up with flour on his nose, so naturally Courfeyrac had to kiss it off, which obviously lead to more kissing, and eventually the pair of them entangled with tinsel and ribbon on the floor.

“Oh, Courfeyrac, everything looks so lovely.” Cosette beams as she enters with Eponine not ten minutes after Courfeyrac and Marius clean up after their own ridiculousness. Cosette sparkles like an ornament in her ice-blue peasant’s blouse and silver leggings, one hand clutching her small purse as the other tugs Eponine forward. “Thank you for having us!”

Courfeyrac, ever the gentleman, begins a chipper conversation with Cosette while taking both of their coats.

“I don’t know how you can live with it.” Eponine shakes her head at Marius, dressed in a tan sweatshirt hanging off her shoulders and dark jeans that have seen better days.

“I could say the same thing to you.” Marius waggles his eyebrows as her eyes roll and her free hand swats him lightly on the shoulder. “Look at it this way, we’re bound to get some amazing cookies out of this.”

“I like the way you think.” Eponine grins beneath strands of her dark hair come loose from her braid, graciously accepting his proffered arm as they all four make their way into the kitchen.

\---

Now, the kitchen is alight with a haphazard rendition of “Un Flambeau Jeannette, Isabella,” the fragrance of slowly baking sugar cookies, and a myriad of colored frosting splattered about the room like playdoh in a daycare center. Marius sways in his seat by the table as he watches Courfeyrac and Cosette laughing together, contentment lulling him into an almost stupor.

“Why do we put up with so much good cheer?” He asks around the hot chocolate Cosette made earlier, inhaling the steam rising from his lavender mug as Cosette and Courfeyrac both continue to prance around the kitchen, flinging bits of cookie dough and frosting at each other while still singing and giggling.

“Because we’re goddamn suckers.” Eponine answers around her own drink, her lips quirking as Cosette lands a ball of dough in Courfeyrac’s hair.

“It’s worth it though, isn’t it?” He almost whispers, savoring the way Courfeyrac’s curls bounce in time with his heaving chest and wayward smile. Out of the corner of his eye, he finds Eponine staring just as intensely at Cosette, as though she were an angel in a field of flowers.

“Definitely.” She agrees, sipping from her drink, her eyes still glued to Cosette.

They remain quiet together for a few moments, the corners of their elbows occasionally brushing together. Marius feels a rush of gratitude for Eponine’s friendship in that moment, a relationship that fully blossomed when she had gotten together with Cosette. Sometimes they bandy about the latest trends from the Café Musain, or they’ll laugh at one of Joly’s old jokes they understand many hours (usually days) after the fact. More often than not, however, they’ll say hardly anything at all, sharing a drink or a cigarette on the rare occasion Eponine can convince Marius to try one.  

“Well now, this just isn’t right.” Courfeyrac’s mischievous tone disrupts Marius’ brief reverie, causing him to start from his drink. “Poor Cosette and I are covered in cookie dough, and the two of you are as pure as Marius’ former reputation.”

They all snort at that, Marius loudest of all, as Cosette runs a hand over Eponine’s hair and contorts her lower face into a pout.

“We haven’t even poured any eggnog yet, a tragedy, really.” Cosette all but purrs, Courfeyrac nodding in agreement.

“Oh no. You are not giving me the smolder. It’s not going to work, I-” Eponine dissolves into giggles as Cosette runs her fingers from her hair to the most ticklish parts of her neck, relentless.

Courfeyrac can’t even disguise the falsity of his own farce of innocence, the corners of his mouth twitching entirely too much as he casually drapes one arm across Marius’ chest, keeping the other behind his back.

“Now, Marius-”

“Whatever it is you’re up to, it’s not going to work. _Oh_.” His breath catches as Courfeyrac starts trailing light kisses down his neck, lips pressed gently into his skin. He tries squirming against Courfeyrac’s hold but falls back against the chair instead.

The moment evaporates as Courfeyrac pours the gooey remains of chocolate chip cookie dough down the front of his sweater. Marius yelps, flails, and promptly falls off the chair.

“All right,” he gasps from the floor, a challenging gleam to his eyes, “you’re on!”

\---

Well past midnight and several glasses of eggnog later finds them in the living room, Cosette and Eponine cuddled tightly together on the couch, Eponine with her phone in hand as she records Marius and Courfeyrac dancing before them. “Dancing” in the sense where they cling to each other and sway from side to side like inexperienced preteens, of course.

Marius’ lips hurt from staying stretched so long across his face, but he can’t bring himself to care. He feels the red in his face as firm as Courfeyrac’s shoulder beneath his hand; his nose is apparently incapable of avoiding Courfeyrac’s, Courfeyrac who won’t stop cooing at him or kissing his face with lips still stained with frosting.

“Courfeyrac.” He whines and giggles at the same time, a feat he can only really accomplish while drunk. He tries to kiss Courfeyrac’s lips and meets the corner of his right eye instead. Behind them, the girls burst into laughter.

“Marius, you are the best drunk.” Cosette can’t stop giggling herself, her head lolling onto Eponine’s shoulder. Eponine promptly drops her phone onto the cushions, ignoring it falling to the floor in favor of twisting in order to steal a sloppy kiss from Cosette. They nuzzle and kiss each other with so much fervor they wind up falling onto the floor themselves.

“Woops.” Eponine only laughs harder as Cosette pulls her in for another kiss.

“I say we follow their lead.” Courfeyrac says seconds before gracelessly dropping to the floor, pulling a protesting Marius down with him.

They wind up kissing again, passionately but with ill grace. Marius relishes his breathlessness as they break apart.

“And what do you think of Christmas now, hmm?” Courfeyrac whispers into his ear as he pulls him into his chest, entangling their limbs together.

 “I love it. And you.” Marius struggles against the weight of his own eyelids as he replies, curling into Courfeyrac and reaching to entwine their hands together.

He falls asleep marveling at the fact that he’s never felt so warm in all his life. 


End file.
